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chilschuck · 8 days

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AAAA i love your blog!! could i pls request a post-canon scenario where chilchuck finally admits his feelings for reader now that they’re not co-workers anymore >_< (assuming reader joined the laios party during the story)

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ WAAAAH ANON i’m so happy you love my stuff!! i LOVEDDD writing this for you, and i have another request in my askbox that’s similar that i’m going to do as well! this was super fun, and i found myself enjoying this idea and coming up with things i could do with it!!! i hope you enjoy!!! <333

— SHELTER: chilchuck x gn!reader.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none, sfw fluff!! takes place post-canon.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1745 (got carried away again…)

✦ i’m scared to reread this, but right now I’m actually happy with it!! i hope you are too!! <333 i tried my best to keep spoilers to a minimum, and to make this fun to read!! also, the title comes from the song shelter by ray lamontagne, which i listened to while writing it. i hope you enjoy!!!

With your party’s adventure finally over, you had decided to try and finally settle down as much as you could. With everyone finding their own new place in life, you did your best to find one too.

You couldn’t deny it had been rather lonely lately. Your own home was empty, a small place you had tried your best to make feel cozy. With your old party members living their own lives, you hoped you could live yours. But evidently, no matter how hard you tried, your mind always went back to him.

It was a bittersweet feeling; imagining him finally living healthily, working on helping others, and even maybe starting up that shop he talked about wanting. It wasn’t like you never saw him, but going on with every day life without him felt… mundane.

Chilchuck was working on himself, reconnecting with his family, and building the future he had hoped for. That alone helped you feel as much at peace as possible. Your feelings, to you, were not nearly as important as his own happiness. So here you waited, counting down the days you’d get to see him again. Maybe he’d be happy to see you too.

Little did you know, Chilchuck was devastatingly nervous. Buttoning up his shirt with shaky fingers, he tried his best to look as decent as he possibly could. It was the final thing he felt he needed to move on, and he wasn’t going to let himself ruin it. Not this, he told himself. There were some things he refused to let slip through his fingers, and one of them were his feelings he had developed for you.

Through it all, you had been by his side. An integral part of the party, you had built him up when he needed it most. Looking past all the mistakes, all the cynicism he liked to cloud himself with, you proved how much you simply cared. Not only for him, but for everyone. Chilchuck had fallen in love with you, and for once, he didn’t want to push those feelings down.

He had bought the flowers he knew you liked, tied with a sweet ribbon that he felt maybe was a bit too much. In fact, maybe all of this was a bit too much, but he hoped it’d work. Chilchuck even went to talk to Marcille about it all, a sign in his own mind that he was more smitten than he had been in years. Not to mention that he had, in fact, reconnected with his ex-wife, and had gained the closure he needed to take this big of a step. There was nothing holding him back now, and he could only hope the words of encouragement he was given would hold true.

Chilchuck had visited your home before, always noting just how comfortable he felt there. You were always happy to have guests lately, and he felt himself praying that this would be the case this time, too. Fist raised in front of your door, he took a deep breath before rapping it against the wood.

The knock came as a surprise, but not as surprising as the person who was behind it. Your eyes widened, his name leaving your lips in delight. “Chilchuck, hello!” It was slightly out of breath from the sheer excitement you had to try and suppress at seeing him here in front of you. Moving to the side, you motioned him in. “Do you… Want to come in?”

One hand behind his back still, trying his best to not snap the stems of the delicate flowers between his fingers, he nodded. “Yeah, sorry for the sudden visit.”

Shaking your head, you walked inside to prepare him something to drink. “Not at all! You know me… I could never say no to seeing you.”

It felt like another of Cupid’s arrows shot him through the chest. Maybe he shouldn’t look too deeply into your words, at least not yet. Following you inside, Chilchuck found himself trying his best to find anything to look at of interest. The plants on your shelves, the well loved books on the table, the occasional trinket you had decided you couldn’t live without… Everything that made it feel so much like you.

While you fiddled around in your small kitchen, Chilchuck cleared his throat. His mouth felt dry, and to try and slow down the thoughts rushing through his head, he spoke up again. “You know… You’ve done a great job with this place. I remember when you bought it.”

You couldn’t help but smile, thinking back fondly of how proud you were. Preparing you both glasses of wine, you turned your attention to him for a moment. “That means a lot, thank you. How have things been with the guild?”

Chilchuck hummed, eyes studying a particular painting on your wall. “Good… Pretty much the usual. Things are going pretty well. What about you, anything interesting since we last saw each other?”

Other than your constant war on your feelings for the half-foot, you’ve been trying new hobbies in order to distract yourself. As you turned to hand him the glass, you racked your brain for something to say. Giving him a sheepish smile, you shook your head. “Not particularly. Here, it’s one you like. Let’s go sit, yeah?”

He held your gaze for a moment, the flowers in his hand a constant reminder of what he was here for. Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth to speak. “Yeah. But first, I have something to give you…”

Finally taking the hand from behind his back, he steeled himself as much as he could before holding them out to you. Quickly setting the glasses down, you let out a sound of surprise. Your hands reached out for them, as delicate as possible.

Chilchuck felt like his face was a bit too hot for something as simple as this, but it’s been such a long time since he’s had to really woo anyone. How the hell did he manage to do this all those years ago? Scratching the back of his head, he broke the silence between the two of you.

“They’re your favorites, right? I happened to see ‘em and thought you’d be happy.”

Although Chilchuck felt like he was doing a piss poor job at this, you felt like you were swooning all over again. You know how much he used actions as a love language, yet could you even call it that in this situation? Friends did nice things for each other, yet…

His brows were furrowed in determination, the tips of his ears rosy and suddenly you felt like maybe there was something there. Your gaze fell to the buds in your hands, freshly picked and done so with care. The smile that made its way on your features was unabashed.

“Yes, yes they’re my favorites… I can’t believe you remembered that. Let me go get something to put them in. Thank you so much, Chil.”

It was worth it just to see you smile like that. Even if he felt a little ridiculous at the action, it paid off when you held the vase proudly in your hands. “I’m going to put them on my desk. I love them…” You spoke softly, your own cheeks turning that shade of pink he loved so much. For a few moments, it became silent again, his brain scrambling for what to say next.

“You asked me about my plans after our adventure was over. There… was something I wasn’t honest about. And I want to be honest about it now.”

Chilchuck made sure to correctly word everything he needed to say. Taking time in between his sentences, his gaze returned to yours. There was something there that you had only hoped you’d seen in the past; a taste of desire.

“I want to be there for you. I know we’re no longer coworkers, so…” The words fell silent, you remaining patient through his pauses. Softly, you gave a gentle phrase of reassurance. “You’re already there for me, I know that, Chil—”

Raising a hand, he silenced you. Contemplation took over his features, that worry line between his brows that you always found endearing still making an appearance. You waited for him to elaborate.

“…As more than friends.”

Your heart stopped. Did you hear him correctly? Certainly you did, your voice having gotten stuck in your throat as you tried to wrap your head around the weight those words carried. Was he saying that, this whole time, you’ve been a goal all along? Hearing your name, you snapped your attention back to him.

“I want to be more honest with how I feel. I know how I used to be, and I’m working towards fixing it.” His deep brown eyes held a small glimmer of hope, of vulnerability. Chilchuck was trying, and he was trying for you.

Feeling as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, you asked shakily, “You want…?”

He smiled, a small etch in his features. Huffing, Chilchuck fiddled with the collar of his shirt. “You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you? I… Have feelings for you. If you don’t feel the same I get it, don’t—“

Before he could finish his sentence, you hurriedly set the flowers down before just about tackling him. The shock of hearing him say exactly what you’d been wishing for so long melted into a need to relay exactly how you felt. Chilchuck grunted at the impact, nearly toppling over.

“Of course I feel the same! You think I’d put up with your grumpy ass for this long if I didn’t?” You couldn’t help the teasing words that followed, pulling away from him to grin widely at him. “Can I kiss you?”

Your excitement caught him even more off guard, eyes widening at your question. “Sorry, that was probably a bit too much—“

Instead of giving you a verbal answer, Chilchuck tugged you to his lips in a desperate attempt to get you to just shut up and do it. You happily obliged, only pulling away to ask one more question. “How long?”

Chilchuck panted, confusion evident on his features. “What?”

“How long have you felt this way?” Your curiosity was getting the better of you, wondering just how long you two had managed to dance around each other like this. Chilchuck sighed, giving the only answer he could think to say:

“Too long.”

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#୨ chilchuck my beloved ୧ #OOUGHHHH IS THIS. ANYTHING.#hoping you like it!!!! as i loved writing it!!!!#worried it doesn’t flow right but….#posts it and runs #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #chilchuck x reader #chilchuck tims x reader

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tofixtheshadows · 15 hours

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You guys really need to stop and consider the ways you're talking about Kabru I am dead fucking serious. Like I know that flattening characters is just what fandom does to a certain extent, but Kabru's actual personality is getting lost to the fandom hivemind insisting that he's aggressive/cruel/sociopathic/hateful, and these are particularly concerning takes to see leveled at the only brown character in the main cast day after day. "My poor sweet golden child Laios needs to be protected from this scary brown man" is not a good look! Like, it's very telling that the bulk of the hate and bad faith readings are reserved for Toshiro and Kabru. Everyone else's flaws get to be discussed and validated and forgiven (or erased), meanwhile people are straight making up things to be mad about with Toshiro and Kabru but patting themselves on the back for being smart.

The worst part is how undeserved it all is. I'm trying to lay off anime-onlys because we're still kind of in the red herring stage of getting to know Kabru, but I would still like to gently suggest that even if you think Kabru is up to something, you don't gave to get in the tags of every fan creator's post and bring up how you hate him or You Can Tell he's totally evil. Sometimes I think Kabru's blue eyes give people license to say things about his appearance that they know would sound completely racist otherwise, but referring to his blue eyes acts as a get-out-of-racism free card. The jokes about the dog with brown contacts are getting old, by the way.

For people who have read the manga, it's disappointing. Kabru is one of the most complex and important characters in the story, and if you base your interpretation of him and all your fandom interactions on shallow first impressions you are completely missing out.

I know part of this is because Dungeon Meshi is a comedy, but the story also wants to be taken seriously. For example, it's admittedly really funny when Chilchuck calls Laios "sick in the head", but that doesn't change the fact that the way Chilchuck casually belittles Laios caused him to hide the fact that he was "hallucinating" from his friends for weeks. Those feelings matter.

Like, this

is funny.

But this?

Is not. This is just a very clear example of a brown boy with PTSD. As someone else with PTSD, just looking at this fucking sucks, man.

The only reason why Kabru thinks about killing Laios is because he is in the middle of a flashback. He's struggling through a panic attack. If he truly wanted to kill Laios because he's violent or because he finds Laios inherently annoying, he wouldn't otherwise talk with Laios normally. Notice how he doesn't act this way at any other point in the story- it's just because he's triggered by monsters. Even when he's thinking about his plans to "deal with" Laios later, he's reluctant to actually kill him and only considers it to prevent another tragedy. Despite his deadly skills, Kabru relies far more on "soft" power- insight, persuasion, diplomacy. He's a rare example of a character who absolutely is, or at least can be, manipulative, but seems to use his abilities for good. He's not a pathological liar, he isn't looking down on everyone behind a smile. He's someone who is extremely emotionally intelligent, and he's willing to put aside all his own basic wants and needs to stop the cycle of dungeons devouring humans.

I'm going to cut a potential thesis on his character short and just give some examples of things that fandom should consider about his personality more:

Racism in fandom isn't just about whitewashing in fan art, or using racial slurs. The insidiousness of bad faith readings, reductions to racist tropes, lack of fan content for characters of color, and dismissal of a character's complexity are far more common. You can believe yourself to be completely neutral or even positive about a character and still churn out low-grade bile about them into fandom's collective unconscious. Fandom reflects real life.

And I have been around fandom long enough to see how these behaviors (mostly from my fellow white fans) affect fans of color, how it makes a fandom feel hostile and unwelcome to them. It's fun to make jokes and memes, I'm absolutely not saying that everything needs to be a deeply nuanced take, but we need to be careful that it doesn't veer into toxicity. Please think about how our contributions to fandom come across, and what sort of vibes they cultivate in this communal space.

#Dungeon Meshi #Kabru #Kabru of Utaya #Dungeon Meshi meta #I'm putting it in the tag. I'm making you look at it.#if you come into my inbox to bitch about this just know that people used to send me b*heading videos in there for similar racist reasons #so I will not be impressed #I'm in a fucking time loop someone get me out!!!!#musings with Dea

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fallow-hollow · 7 days

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take you home

…ft! chilchuck tims x male! half-foot! reader

…tags! fluff, pining, confession, dates, mentions of drinking, post-canon

…word count! 1346

…notes! i fully agree with the fandom consensus that chilchuck is a closeted bisexual

Chilchuck was a pretty prominent union leader on the island, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he’d do the same when he moves back to Kahka Brud to set up shop.

If you’re a half foot in the area, especially one looking for work, it’s pretty much impossible not to know Chilchuck.

No matter your field, he’s a great guy to go to for making connections and financial advice in general.

The first time you talked to him was about negotiating for a contract with a potential employer, but honestly, you’d always sort of admired him from afar. Hard working, sharp-witted, not to mention good looking.

“What?!” You nearly jumped at the man’s exasperated shout, being that he was fairly close to your ear. Chilchuck agreed to help you take a look at one of the contracts you’ve been offered, so you were currently letting him take a look at a copy. This, of course, led to the man peering over your shoulder, which didn’t help your absolutely hopeless crush on him. Not that you were complaining, though.

To make it even worse, he even rested his elbow right on your shoulder to point something out on the paper. “They don’t even include consequential damages litigation here! No way are you going to be tricked into being liable for their lost profits!”

Not turning your head due to your own embarrassment, you merely looked at him in your peripheral vision. “So, what do you think I should do?”

“Wellll….” As he deliberated on your question, the man leaned away from you, allowing you to turn your body towards him more. “If you’re dead set on working with this employer, I’d say negotiate as much as you can. On your own, you can get brushed off easily, but if you need…” he wore a smug grin whilst rubbing under his nose with his index finger. “I can put in a good word for you.”

And if you’re a half-foot, the guy is most likely taller than you. It’s noted that if the entire canon party were half-foots, he’d be taller than even Laios.

By this point in the timeline, I also imagine he’s patched things up with his family, but not in a romantic relationship with his ex-wife anymore. They’re friendly and see each other regularly, and she and his daughters even tease him about putting himself out there again.

From conversations you’ve had with him, you’re more than aware he’s been married before and has kids, and that doesn’t deter you from seeking a relationship with him at all. In fact, if you ever meet his daughters, you’ll likely get along well if you’re as amiable with them as you are with their father.

“I like him,” Puckpatti would declare the moment you left the room. “He seems sweet! You definitely need somebody like that to coax you out of your whole crab apple act, Papa.”

“It’s not like that!” He would instantly retort, causing his two more outgoing daughters to giggle. Even Meijack, albeit not as boisterous as her sisters, had a hint of an amused look on her face.

“Yet.” Flertom winked. “If you ever need some tips to speed up the process, you really shouldn’t be afraid to ask!”

The mere offer turned the man into a stuttering mess. “Stop that or I’ll— I’ll tell your mother!”

For a moment, Meijack’s eyes flitted to her father’s face before retreating back to the side. “She already told us she knew you swung that way.”

Chilchuck would’ve downright screamed if not for your return. “Hey guys, what’d I miss?” He dared not turn around, lest you notice how flushed he’d become in mere minutes.

Puckpatti, with a look so innocent that you could hardly believe she was tormenting her father just moments before, clapped her hands together and grinned. “No, you came at just the right time! I wanted to ask more about how you and Papa met!”

Chilchuck has never dated another guy before, so he doesn’t have a lot of experience in that field. Honestly, since his wife and he were childhood friends, I’m not sure if he’s dated anybody else at all. Most of the guys he knew well were coworkers, drinking buddies, or both, so emotional connection wasn’t always a priority.

Your friendly attitude and respect for his craft already drew him in, plus your little acts of affection drove him absolutely crazy. Give him a hug as a greeting and he’s doing everything he can to resist melting. Could a person really be this sweet with no ulterior motive? Someone like you has got to be even rarer than even the most valuable treasures.

More likely than not, you’d be the one to actually ask him out. You may need to repeat yourself when you ask him, though, cause the man might just die of shock.

Holding up the poster for the ‘couple’s night’ at the bar you frequented together was a bit of a nerve wracking experience, if you were being honest. Watching the other man’s eyes squint and scan over the text, you grinned and asked,

“Would you want to go together?”

For a moment, Chilchuck didn’t really know what to make of your request. You asking him to go out for drinks with him was a totally normal thing between you two, but why were you showing him that ad? After a minute or so of trying and failing to make the proper connection, he grinned and nodded like he’d figured it out.

“Ahhh, so you’re one of those people that’ll pretend to be a couple with their friend to get discounted drinks? Not really a thing I do, but since it’s you, I’ll consider it.”

Hey, why did you look so dejected when he said that? That’s what you meant, right?

Right?

“No, I meant…..” your eyes left his face in favor of lingering on the floor. Those words combined with your expression finally made it all slide into place, and the poor man could only blurt out with a feeling of intense guilt,

“Oh, oh, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t know you were asking—!”

You did end up going together that night, and it was pretty fun, too.

As a partner, Chilchuck is focused on providing stability. As much as he can act like a sleaze sometimes, he doesn’t seem like he does a lot of casual dating. He’d probably feel too old for that kind of thing either way.

When you’ve been together for a while, he may even offer to share finances and move in together. He says it would be “economical” and all, but you can also tell he clearly wants to be with you daily, and that makes you happy.

Protective as all hell. When he gets a little tipsy, he may get snappy with anyone he even thinks is looking at you the wrong way.

“Hey!” From beside you, you heard your lover’s voice slur. “You got a problem with my man?”

A sigh escaped your lips. “Chilchuck, he’s just collecting the empty glasses.”

Your words must not have either not reached him or not even affected him, because he continued to glare up at the waiter with a hazy, unfounded suspicion that truly only a drunk Chilchuck could possess.

A hand on his waist pulling him into your collar made quick work of sating him, a smile gracing your lips when he groaned into the fabric of your shirt. “We’ll leave soon, okay hon? Soon we can go home.”

Briefly, his half lidded eyes opened wider if only to look up at your face as if you were an illusion, something too good to be true.

“I get to take a pretty thing like you home with me….?”

Lord, for such a serious person, he really could make you laugh sometimes. It was probably just the lighting, but you hoped that the redness of his face really did intensify at your smile as you gazed down at him.

“You can every single night, Chil. Always.”

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck tims #chilchuck tims x reader

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nhuquyen · 2 months

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This scene suffered from the pace being rushed which makes it hard to understand what Kabru is going on about if you didn't piece together the story through his POV. This is unfortunate cuz this moment is so realistically messy yet is the satisfying moment when the leading and supporting characters finally come into an understanding.

Kabru's antagonism makes perfect sense only if the readers remove themselves from their favoritism to Laios.

I see some confusion over why he thinks Laios is an enemy of humanity. Firstly, Laios thinks the things that killed all of his family and community are cool. This alone to me is at least sympathetic enough to see why he harbors subconscious prejudice against Laios. It doesn't make him right, but it's logical enough.

Secondly, yeah he's in over his head with his own judgment and thinks too highly of his own motive*. Thirdly, he's bit of a dick to Laios I won't even lie here (I do blame stress for the punch) . But like everyone except Falin is a fucking dick to Laios when you think about it.

And to be completely fair, ever since he knew of Laios' interest till even here still Kabru's been flip-flopping between "This man might save us all" and "He would choose monsters over humanity, we are doomed if he got the power which he is very close to getting rn, let kill him". It's not like he went 100% antagonistic.

This is getting long so,,,My breakdown of Kabru's pov, which explains his actions regarding Laios, under the readmore.

Let see thru Kabru's pov in chronological order:

Taking it from the start, Kabru has a bit of a savior complex no doubt stems from his survival guilt. Being the sole survivor of a massacre by monsters it's understandable he feel that it's his duty to find out why it happened and prevent it from happening again. We saw him and his crew talking shit about how good he is at reading people, and he totally gonna topple the greedy governor and save this place. Then they continuously got their asses handed to them by monsters cuz while Kabru read people well, he can't handle monsters. So yeah he admitted deep down he's not making it to the deep.

So now Kabru wants to find someone he can trust to save the island. He got his eyes on Laios bc he can't read him. Laios is a damn good dungeon explorer and isn't motivated by greed while almost everyone is, so what gives?

Here we see Kabru reveals he had failed to get Laios attention while trying to get to know his mysterious party. This is my interpretation only but he was definitely pissed about it too. Kabru is a bit over his head about his own charm so Laios ignoring him probably stunk.

Even after knowing Laios' special interest he was like "huh so that's how he is" until the matter of dungeon master's power come up and it occurred to him "wait would this guy who loves monsters use the power to make the dungeon full of powerful monsters that will destroy people?" He definitely did not decide Laios was humanity emeny right there, it's a possibility. As much as Laios pulling through and save the island from becoming another Utaya tragedy is a possibility.

Here, we see him desperately clinging to the former possibility until the latter took over "It's too late to get through to him i have to kill him." But did it take over? In that panic, his true feeling comes out. He still wants to understand Laios as a person, he still wants to believe in Laios after all.

Wgile it's easy to get pissed at Kabru just as we did the the Shuro/Toshiro vs Laios fight scene. Fellow autistics know how much it fucking hurt to get your social ineptitude get dragged out like that. I do think Kabru's rant here is good for Laios. This is the first time somebody has admitted to want to get to know why he like monsters despite them hating the creatures. It's not the solidarity like what he and his sister has, but it's not total rejection. Again, his own party members who care about him want nothing to do with his interest (minus Senshi)

Tldr: Kabru's alright and his actions make complete sense even if it's flawed

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #kabru

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fenfyre · 1 month

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Forbidden Fruit - Part VII

Part I

Brushing his knuckles against his sweet spot one last time to encourage his now half hard cock, Chilchuck pulled his fingers out, leaving himself softened and glistening. He allowed himself a moment of stillness to breathe and prepare for what was to come. Then he reached for the jar, still upright and unspilled, to hold it aside for the tallman to grab.

"Your turn", he said, voice only steady because he willed it to. But when eager fingers came up to grab it from him, he pulled his hand away. "Go slow", he added, throwing a stern glance over his shoulder. "And listen when I talk to you."

Behind him the tallman was flushed and eager but the look he gave Chilchuck was alert and certain.

"Yes, of course. Always." The words were said with grave honesty and to his credit, he had listened so far. Been good. Stopped even when he did not want to, kept his hands to himself just because Chilchuck told him to. The one reaching for the jar was still bearing angry teeth marks from where Laios had done everything to hold himself back. Chilchuck would be safe in those huge hands. So he held out the oil jar once again.

Laios took it with his bitten hand, movements slow and careful as if receiving a delicate treasure. Staring at the lightly tinted oil, transfixed, he dipped a finger inside, watching it get swallowed up and coated, then looked at Chilchuck again.

"Can I?", he asked and there were specks of heat gleaming in his eyes, promises of what was to come.

Chilchuck nodded, then turned around. Because his neck was growing stiff and for no other reason.

There was a clunking sound as the tallman set the jar down on the bedside table, so much easier to reach for him. A moment later his hand had already found Chilchuck's body, one hand grabbing his hip to pull it back and tilt it further upwards, the other slipping between his cheeks.

The movement threw Chilchuck off balance and he braced his hands against the tallman's body, both palms finding the planes of his abdomen. As he shifted his eyes found that length, straining and bobbing, and that beckoning scent wafted towards him. Sweet and musky. He only had to reach out, only had to lean forward...

So he did. Bracing his elbows against the tallman's abdomen Chilchuck shifted lower, raised his hips further, and grabbed that length with both hands. Behind him the tallman let out a groan, hips twitching minutely as that cock gave a helpless jerk between his fingers. Neither hand could encircle it entirely, fingertips unable to meet around the sheer width, and the realization made saliva pool under Chilchuck's tongue. It was about time he got his mouth on something as well.

Leaning down he did not dive for the impressive cock between his fingers immediately. Instead he first licked a long stripe across the tallman's abdomen, gathering the precome that was pooling there, slick and inviting. The taste was salty sweet as it coated his tongue and clouded his senses, perfectly intense.

The tallman shivered, mumbling Chilchuck's name. Again. It did not matter. His hands had stilled entirely, caught off guard by the sudden touch, it seemed.

Chilchuck gathered another mouthful, savouring taste and texture, before shaking his hips in the tallman's tightening grip.

"Come on, get to work..."

The open request was enough to rattle the tallman out of his stupor and a moment later Chilchuck felt something press against his opening. Something blunt and wide and slick that pushed into him with ease. There was almost no resistance as that finger sank deep into him and Chilchuck groaned at the feeling of being stretched by something other than his own fingers. Something that pushed and wiggled and reached deeper than he could, brushing different spots along the way.

Behind him there was quiet gasp, the other hand shifting from his hip to cup his ass and pull it aside, spreading him open. It felt filthy, being bared like this for Laios to see but it also made his cock throb. He was entirely hard again.

"Oh ... oh, you're so soft", the tallman breathed, wiggling his finger deep inside. "Feel so good. Gripping me so tight and ... and yet I..." He gave a slow, experimental thrust, sliding back and forth, making Chilchuck feel every bump of his knuckles. It was intense but comfortable, simple in a way things between them had never been. Would never be. So Chilchuck allowed himself to savour just this once.

"Like that", he breathed, pushing back into the wonderful stretch. "Come on, fuck me on your fingers. Get me ready for ... for..." He trailed off as that cock gave a violent twitch between his fingers, pumping out another dribble of precome. This time Chilchuck was ready. He surged forward, diving down to seal his lips around the tip and drink it right up.

The tallman moaned and twitched below him, grabbing Chilchuck's ass even harder as he noticeably strained not to thrust up into the feeling, abs trembling and feet burying into the blankets.

Once Chilchuck had swallowed what he could he stuck out his tongue to lap at the head, enjoying the heat and how soft the sensitive tip felt against his tongue. It took some time of him licking and humming, enjoying the twitches and droplets of precome spurting out for him, until the tallman got used to it.

Finally that strong body softened underneath him and the motion of that finger inside him resumed. Slow and careful at first, giving gentle thrusts, always attentive to Chilchuck's reactions. And Chilchuck reacted willingly, humming and groaning as he was filled, panting agreements and demands against the throbbing tip before closing his lips around it again.

"Yes, ah ... come on, I can take it, I can take ... more...", he gasped, his own length hard and leaking where it was stuck between their bodies. There was a gentle rocking motion to his hips now, back to stuff himself with that thick finger, down to rub his cock against that sturdy chest, forward to wrap his lips around that enticing length. Wherever he bucked and shifted there was more of Laios, carrying him, holding him, filling him, feeding him, and Chilchuck was dizzy with it.

Part VIII

#chilaios #laishil #chilchuck tims #laios touden #dunmeshi #powerbotom chil #servicetop laios

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sumontienne · 1 month

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i was brainrotting about kabumisu and was like "wait what if the entire canary squad traded kabru around" and went muahaha anyway here's the first chapter

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Negotiations

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Kabru/Mithrun & Canaries

Tags / CWs:

Breathplay/choking

Knifeplay

Blood kink

Biting and scratching

Bondage

Knotting

Sensory deprivation

Light body horror sex

Summary: The Golden Country is experiencing some diplomatic troubles with the Elves of the West. King Laios hasn't a clue how to dissolve tensions--or anything about international politics, for that matter--but luckily for him, Kabru volunteers to be an emissary to the rivaling country.

Once arrived, Kabru meets with Captain Mithrun and his Canaries. After arrangements are made with the Queen Immortal, Mithrun (in no part due to Cithis' influence, assuredly) grants Kabru permission to stay in the Canary lodge while he's in the country.

Read on AO3

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Chapter 1

“We’re gonna have a problem if they keep blocking the Carinagin Straits.”

Kabru opens his eyes; King Laios still has his head in his hands, elbows stilted on the table, fingers ruffling his short hair. Kabru sighs, taking another once-over of the map of the Western Seas that Marcille projects from her staff.

“It’s not like we can just threaten them,” the old gnome guy states—Kabru forgot his name. “After all they did for us, it would be in bad taste, don’t you think, my Lord?”

“The blockade is in bad taste,” groans Laios, still prone.

Marcille’s eyes dart to and fro. Kabru gets her; he doesn’t care, either.

“The elves are just miffed,” Kabru says, “that the Golden Land is a rising superpower. The same thing happened between the Tlanglaloc and Ulmen kingdoms in the thirteenth century.”

Laios looks up. “What’re those ones?”

The gnome sighs, subtly. “Tallman and dwarf kingdoms. Ancient history. The trade war between them was a major factor in the Western Mercenary Wars.”

“The what?”

“Oh my gods, Lord Laios— ”

“If I may,” Kabru starts, presenting to them a well-procured grin. “History doesn’t tend to repeat, but it does rhyme. The Ulmen-Tlanglaloc trade war shouldn’t serve as a model for our current situation quite yet. Things have yet to escalate that far, sir.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Laios deflates.

“So what, then? We send an emissary?” The gnome crosses his arms.

“Yeah… Yeah!” Laios springs up, startling a sleepy-eyed Marcille. “We can send Mr. Tansu!”

Right, his name’s Tansu.

Tansu clenches his jaw. “My Lord, I never agreed to any of this.”

“Oh? Are you going against your king?” Kabru smiles.

“Quiet.”

“No, no, if he doesn’t wanna…” Laios groans and falls back down to the table.

Kabru perks over the king. Laios looks up at him.

“What about you?”

“Sorry, my Lord?”

“You. Kabru. You know that elf guy, right? The Canary.”

“Mithrun.”

“Yeah, him.”

“The Canaries are present at the Straits,” Tansu notes, scritching his chin.

Laios perks up again, more relieved. “You can talk to them!”

“M’Lord, I hardly think I qualify—”

“Y-You don’t have to, but please!”

Then, Laios Touden, the Lord Sovereign of the Golden Country, Demonkiller, Devourer of Unpleasantries, falls from his chair prostrates before Kabru, wilting down to the bricklaid floor and hugging his shins. Kabru’s brow tightens; Marcille and Mr. Tansu watch on, completely perplexed.

“Ehh, sir…”

“Please! Please! I don’t wanna deal with this anymore.”

“L-Laios…” Marcille’s eyebrow twitches.

Kabru looks around. It’s true—whenever Mithrun and his Canaries come to visit, they always begin and end on good terms. It’s always a treat having him and the elves over at his place after a round of dialogues at the castle. Kabru has learned a lot from Senshi, and Mithrun has always been a willing test subject.

Out of bed, too, like with new recipes and stuff.

Kabru beckons back his salesman smile, and lays a soft hang on King Laios’ trembling shoulder. “Oh, Lord Sovereign,” he says, “of course I will.”

“Of course he will,” mutters Tansu. Kabru chucks a daggerous glare in his direction.

“Are you sure?” Marcille says. “The Western elves have a habit of skinning diplomats.”

“Again, ancient history. Tallmen have evolved from being savage vikings, why haven’t the Western elves?”

“No, this still happens in the modern day, like—”

“Marcille.”

“Sorry.”

Laios holds Kabru, tears streaming from his eyes. Kabru laughs, faintly, and pats his King’s back. He supposes he feels bad for Laios, having to deal with all of this.

It was a hackneyed operation, but Kabru was comfortable. He was relatively swift in preparing his things in the usual manner, and, as usual, King Laios was accommodating to his needs.

The boat left at dawn. With magic, the journey was six weeks. Now, as Kabru stirs in his cabin, he feels a massive hammy palm slap on his back. He shuffles under the thin covers and looks up, bearing the sharp sun, as one of the sailors shakes him awake. The beefy dwarf walks away, making up for the deck, and Kabru rubs his eyes.

He steps out to the surface. The Western elven capital crowns the deep emerald country, the volcanic Mount Ingli spooling tufts of smoke over golden spires. The boat nears steadily the straight wooden port, the white cliffs carved away for a massive cothon containing hundreds of ships.

He steps off onto the short pier, lagging behind the gang of dwarven seamen who’d escorted him through the roiling sea to the Northwestern shore. The dwarf captain looks back for Kabru, who catches up to him with his things in tow.

Kabru slouches in pompous emissary wear and a large, hefty backpack, the leather straps girdled around his chest. The sinking sun casts a long shadow of his snail form on the hardwood boards.

Kabru and the captain walk side by side. “Careful around these parts,” tells the dwarf captain in perfect Goldenlander. “The elves have ways of getting what they want.”

“I’ll be fine, Gulwen.”

He waves goodbye to the dwarves and takes his things up the dock to the waterfront. Magical chariots crash by the road on shivering wheels with golden spokes, and from the marketfronts blistering shells jingle in the slight summer breeze. Kabru brushed up on his history: In the Kingdom of Cadarnle, those special seashells used to be the primary form of currency. The practice is still upheld to some degree—albeit, mostly for tourists.

“What are you doing here, Kabru?”

Kabru flips around to see a shawl sitting on the stone wall before the ocean. The black shawl is unkempt, busy with stains and old stitches.

“I thought I told you to get a new one,” Kabru frowns.

Mithrun glowers at him darkly from under his hood.

“Don’t wanna be seen out here, I take it?”

“I have unfinished business with these people.”

“Who, the merchants?”

“The mercantiles.” Mithrun quivers. “Milked me for every last cent. When they found out who I am…”

“What’s wrong with merchants? They keep the whole world running.”

Kabru gives him a smile. Mithrun, as usual, doesn’t return the favor.

“Easy for you to say, Goldenlander,” Mithrun scowls. “You people are members of the global north—the bourgeoisie. You only serve to benefit from global capitalism.”

“Oh gods, he’s also been getting into Orgodism,” Kabru mutters.

“Orgodism is BASED and REDPILLED!”

“Can we not do this right now?” Kabru unfolds the decree from King Laios and shows it to Mithrun. “You know why I’m here. I have business at the Citadel.”

Mithrun’s face relaxes, and he sighs. “Sorry. Yes, Kabru, I’ll take you. Come along.”

They proceed up the road, weaving through the city and its people, granted passage by standing guards along the way. They cross onto Royal Avenue, at once pristine and bustling, freckled with market stalls, horses, strangers in odd regalia, and glistening upperclassmen along the polished marble stone. This road isn’t meant for carriages: Garden islands thatch the center where rosegold pillars hold corinthian arcs over the myriad shrubbery, where bright butterflies frolic about between the soft ivies. Kabru watches as he and Mithrun pass a mother letting her children run about in the plants, no doubt disregarding the rules dictating otherwise, and the glowing butterflies that land on their noses. He smiles at them, genuinely this time. A kid waves back before his mother snatches him away at the sight of a passing guardsman.

Kabru meets Mithrun’s handler at the foot of the great bridge. Cithis towers over him, looking down with bladed fox eyes, fool’s gold scars glinting in the setting sunlight. She turns to Mithrun: “You brought him back in one piece.”

Mithrun stays quiet. Kabru realizes that was meant for him. “Ah, yeah, he did well.”

Cithis regards him, cradling her chin in her talons. “Your analysis, emissary?”

“Uh… Full marks? The shawl could use some fixing.”

“That’s his favorite shawl.” She leans close, startling Kabru with a cold warmth on his ear; ”You should see him carrying it around, teething on it—”

“Quiet,” snaps Mithrun from ahead.

Cithis titters by and leaves Kabru despondent.

“Sorry about her,” Mithrun says, very loudly, from the front.

Cithis just smiles.

They wait for a while in the Iron Citadel. In Kabru’s reading he’s come to know the full history of this place—a stalwart stronghold against the half-mythical mynydd-dir, savage nomads from Cadarnle’s founding legend. Obviously inspired by the extinct orc population, Kabru knows, and a tad bit distasteful. Thank Falin and the orcs for instilling that sense of morality in him.

Now, it seems that a separate kingdom of orcs has scheduled a meeting with the Queen before him.

“It’ll take a while,” Cithis tells him, smiling eerily. She pats the spot mahogany seat next to her, one of the hundred lining the pristine walls.

It is, indeed, a while. Gradually Kabru starts to droop, holding his head in his upturned fist, as Mithrun sits undisturbed by his side. On the other end, Cithis sits looking at the bare palms of her hands; it takes Kabru a good minute of watching her just staring to finally ask, “What’re you doing, Cith?”

“... Cith?” She turns to him.

“Can I call you that?”

“No.”

“Okay. Sorry. Why are you looking at your hands?”

She looks back at them, ear flitting. “Magic.”

“Like… illusions?”

“Yeah.”

Kabru shuffles closer. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“How would it be dangerous?”

“I was taught in school that too much exposure to illusion magic can drive one insane.”

“Only the lesser races. Elves are more pure, so we can persist.”

“A-Ah… That’s, uh…” Kabru chuckles sheepishly.

Cithis blinks, then shrugs, “It’s true.”

“Cith, stop being racist,” Mithrun says.

“Sorry, I can't help it with my obvious superiority.”

“I’m inclined to agree with your captain, Cithis,” Kabru says.

Cithis wrinkles her nose at him. Kabru just keeps on smiling.

They’re interrupted by an elf woman pushing out of the great court and through the procession of orcs crowding the waiting hall. They each suddenly look up to see Pattadol panting, gripping her fairy near-lethally in her fist. “Sorry I’m late!” she huffs.

“Ah, Pattadol,” Kabru rises and gives her his hand. She takes it and shakes it ricketedly.

“Pattadol,” Mithrun regards her. “Your cabinmate was just being violently racist towards the Golden emissary.”

Pattadol looks at Cithis.

Cithis crosses her arms. “I wasn’t violent.”

“Ahaha, ignore her!” Pattadol waves her hand. “But it’s so great to see you again! How is your king?”

“Doing well. As you can probably guess, this whole conundrum with the blockade has him very distressed.”

“And the half-blood?” Pattadol asks.

“Isn’t that also racist?” commentates Cithis.

“It’s a microaggression so it’s not as bad,” Kabru says.

“Microaggressions are actually still pretty bad.”

“How would you know this, Cithis?” Mithrun says.

“Sounds like something a human would say.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong.”

“ANYWAYS—” Pattadol shouts, startling the rest—”How’s Marcy? Duwiau uchod, I’ve been dying to see her again.”

“She’s good! Her progress on the passive dungeon has been hasty. Some of the villagers have even been able to partly domesticate her basilisks.”

“Ooh, splendid, splendid!”

Mithrun and Cithis glower at Kabru threateningly.

He laughs. “Don’t worry, we have it under control.”

“If anything goes wrong, Kabru…”

“Ahahaha, you guys!” Pattadol waves them away.

A marble lift descends from the high mezzanine across from them. The alabaster platform, powered by advanced magicry, hums as it hovers slowly down, and from its flat surface steps an obsidian-skinned needlepick elf. They motion their hand forward; “This way, emissary.”

Kabru and the Canaries accompany the elf up to the citadel’s higher floors. A copper bell mounted on the contraption’s upholstery rings pleasantly, and the ivory doors slide open, revealing a plush, manifold garden, unfolding before them like an immaculately colored quilt. The same butterflies of light from the roads below flutter about the white ornamental fountain craning at the undergrowth’s center, webbed with prim paths of light brickwork.

“You may wait here until the Queen Immortal is prepared,” the elf guide says. “No guest of her’s should’st wait with the unwashed masses below.”

They step out and the elf disappears back down the lift. Kabru whistles; “This is swanky.”

“‘Swanky?’” Pattadol says.

“An old tallman saying.”

Pattadol turns to Mithrun, “Is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s a good thing,” returns Kabru. “Although, I wouldn’t have minded waiting down there. What’s the special occasion?”

Cithis smiles and elbows Pattadol, causing her to yelp. “Yeah, Pattadol, what’s the occasion?”

Pattadol grumbles. “Stop it, Cithis. I already get enough cachu from you all every other day.”

“Language,” Mithrun says. He addresses Kabru: “Pattadol is just a noble.”

“One of the lower rungs.”

“—Her family has certain connections. In short, she’s the reason why the Queen Immortal was open to seeing you in the first place, Kabru.”

“Ah,” Kabru turns to her. “I’m grateful, then.” He gives her a polite smile. The smile Pattadol returns is genuine, albeit faltering.

Cithis watches on, talons clicking against one another. She holds her long, damascened nails at the edge of her dress, fidgeting with her index and middle fingers. The sound they produce is crystalline.

As they wait in the garden, Cithis keeps looking back and forth between Kabru and the other Canaries. She rubs the pad of her thumb over her metallic claws, running them over like a washboard.

Kabru pulls out a knitting set. A knitting set! He knits! And he just sits there humming and kicking his feet next to the captain while he finishes off a scarf. When he’s done he presents his creation to Mithrun, who receives it unflinchingly. Kabru helps him weave it around his neck.

Cithis sits in the shade. The great elm that shelters her bristles lightly in the magical breeze, the topaz leaves above teeming with spectral butterflies. After a moment of deliberating she stands, brushes the dust off of her skirt, and walks over to them. Kabru looks up at her while Mithrun continues handling the scarf.

“Cute scarf,” she says.

“Is it?” Kabru smiles—that damn smile. “Apologies, it’s just that I don’t consider it my best work.”

“I think it’s fine.” Cithis crosses her arms. “Very fine.”

Pattadol watches on from afar disconcertingly.

Kabru hums. He digs in his bag to produce another ball of yarn, and offers it to Cithis. “Feel it.”

She does so. It’s soft and scratchy.

“Yarn from Utaya,” he says. “I taught the carpenters in the Golden Country to make yarn like it. It is to your liking, madam?”

“Madam?”

“Or do you go by some other form of address?”

Again he hums, studying her.

“I appreciate how close you and Captain Mithrun have become.”

“Oh, is that it?”

“Indeed. I’ve noticed. My, I wouldn’t mind asking you to look after the good commander from time to time.”

“I don’t look after him; he puts in his own effort when I’m around.”

“I see, yes. I’m impressed that you’ve managed to push him in the right direction.”

“Can you do this somewhere else?” Mithrun says.

Kabru and Cithis stare at each other.

She pushes him into the wall with her talons around his neck. She’s so close to kissing him, the cold warmth of her breath clashing against his nose, but she doesn’t, just looks at him with eyes like falcons circling directly above, so he presents her with his signature shit-eating smile. She scowls and presses her knee into his crotch; she expects him to squirm but he remains still, before clamping his thigh around her leg, bringing her closer.

“Really?” Kabru chuckles. “That was what got you into it?”

Cithis stabs, “It’s cute, you and Mithrun. Not like you’d understand. You’re the first person who’s gotten him to budge, as I recollect.”

“Oh? You’re his caretaker.” He snickers into his hand with slitted snake eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“You little slut,” she snarls.

She finally takes what he’s been giving her and shoves her tongue into his mouth. Her teeth and her mouth and her knee press even harder into Kabru. Further inside. She feels his erection under his linens. She tests his gag reflex and finds him worthy.

“You must be pretty good if Mithrun is fucking you,” she says after decoupling, wiping her mouth.

Kabru wipes his. “And you aren’t?”

“You flatter me.”

“I’m really not. He really hasn’t taken a bite out of you yet?”

“Business etiquette,” she says. “Don’t shit where you eat.”

“Oh, come on, I was getting into it.”

“And talking about babysitting Mithrun didn’t put you out of it?”

“It was hot in a responsible way. You looked good.”

“Quiet, you.”

Kabru gasps and slaps his hand over his mouth when Cithis lunges forward and bites his neck. She sucks, tongue slithering over the agitated flesh, and leaves a seething leechmark above his shoulder. Strings of spit connect them. Cithis leans upward and drags her tongue—forked, as Kabru now realizes—along his cheek, hot breath blistering the skin.

He clasps his legs harder around the thigh on his dick. She growls.

“Your legs are stone.”

Kabru shudders, feeling the senses in his legs fall away.

“Your arms are stone.”

Her mouth is stuck in his ear, and he can’t move away. His arms become cold and lifeless, despite the nerves screaming for motion. It makes his dick throb.

“U-Using magic for stuff like this?” He laughs in her face. “What right does a deviant have to call me a slut?”

“Already got my ears cut, why stop while I’m ahead?”

Her tongue stabs back inside, jamming down his throat. He feels the muscle bump and swell against his uvula, her spit spilling down into his larynx. He can’t help but choke on her. Any further and she could easily reach his trachea.

Her gilded talons dig into his sides. Her choking tongue represses the laugh that comes from the digging pain. She scratches up, no doubt leaving cuts under his clothes, until her knuckles are under his armpits. She traces around to his tits and cups them, squeezing, before clenching two fingers around one of his stinging nipples.

She pulls back when his eyes start turning dark. He coughs, mixed saliva webbing from his mouth like mucus. “Now I know why he likes you,” Cithis pants.

“He would if he could get it up.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw, did I just spoil him for you?”

She snatches his chin and snarls into his mouth. “Shut up or I’ll make you shut up,” she says.

She pushes her thumb into his lower lip, the tip of her nail ending just below his nose. He smirks and licks it. Cithis reaches down with her other hand and squeezes his dick through his pants.

“Cum.”

Kabru’s mind goes numb.

“You’re cumming.”

He bucks his hips into her hand and suppresses the moan cascading from his gullet. His arms and legs still won’t move, so he squirms between Cithis and the wall uselessly as a dark spot forms on his groin. Cithis peers down at it, self-satisfied.

“That’s a lot,” she muses, letting go of his face. Kabru slumps down, feeling the senses return to his limbs, and falls down to his knees.

Cithis reaches down and ruffles a hand through his dark curls. “Good boy.”

She then cradles her chin in her fingers and looks ahead in thought. Kabru continues panting beneath her.

She sighs, then looks back down at him. “As for your stay in this country,” she says, “I’m sure Captain Mithrun wouldn’t mind if you stayed in our lodge. Hmm, or would you rather stay in a tavern…”

Kabru looks up. He wipes the spittle from his chin with a finger, and grins with teeth. “I’d l-love to,” he says. “Mithrun needs the company.”

“Good, good.” She whisks her hand in the air: “Ei guddio.”

The damp mark in his pants fades away, but he can still feel it.

“Behave yourself, Kabru. You’re talking to the Queen, after all.”

Negotiating with the Queen of the Western Elves with a full wad in your pants is a harrowing experience. Doubly so when the person who magicked it out of you is standing right there, stealing glances every now and then. Pattadol, too, seemed disquieted.

Mithrun didn’t seem to care. That is, until the meeting was over, where he asked Cithis and Kabru, “Was all that really necessary?”

“Was what?” Kabru asked, very politely.

“... Nevermind.”

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #kabru of utaya #kabru #kabru/mithrun #kabru dungeon meshi #mithrun #cithis #pattadol #smut #fanficiton #fanfic

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franswaa3-but-a-bog-mummy · 1 year

Text

ch92 spoilah talk

so dunmeshi 92 is out and I gotta say. Owie oof ouch. Laios does not look happy. His eyes also remind my of falyn's this chapter and some other thoughts that won't matter until another month passes? I bet the lion was right and his monster body was his desire and that really did affect him. Now not only will the world become increasingly mundane with the dissipation of mana but also. He's still an outsider to them in his eyes. He's realizing again that he really doesn't know if he can fit in, and even casually as ever chilchuck making that offhanded comment about horns kinda just drives that home probs. I mean when they found him he looks more like a cornered dog than anything, which is just, so in character for him. Anyway laios please stop having this much autistic swag if 93 is sad im gonna cry

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #identifying a bit too much with laios again oopsiedoodle

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rhetoricandlogic · 5 years

Text

How did I never see this? The Emperor’s Soul, Deleted Scene

The Emperor’s Soul Deleted Prologue: Imperial Fool

The Emperor’s Soul

Note: It’s best if you have read The Emperor’s Soul before you read this deleted prologue.

Shai pressed her fingernail into one of the stone blocks of her prison cell. The stone gave way slightly. She rubbed the dust between her fingers, frowning. “Limestone?” she asked softly. “Who makes a cell out of limestone?”

Of course, the whole cell wasn’t of limestone, merely that single block. Shai had counted twenty-seven different kinds of stone so far, including several she didn’t know the names of. That would make escape tough. Very tough.

This was a cell that had been designed to hold a Forger. She knelt down beside her bunk, using a fork—she’d bent back all of the tines but one—to carve notes into the wood of one leg. She’d engraved a crosswork pattern on another side, with numbers representing the stones of the back wall of her cell. Without her spectacles, she had to squint to see what she’d carved there.

She wrote out, with some difficulty, the word limestone in the key representing the stone block she’d just identified. “Honestly,” she growled as she worked. “They sentence a girl to death. They could at least give her a sheet of paper.”

“A sheet of paper?” The amused voice came from outside the cell. “You actually asked for one?”

Shai jumped at the voice, standing and tucking her hand behind her back to hide the fork. Stealing that had been unpleasant. If she lost it . . .

But it was only the court fool. The man’s hawkish face was capped by a three-pointed jester’s crown, though his was of simple white and black, not the traditional brazen colors. He wore a black coat, long and flowing, almost like one of the Grands. He shouldn’t have been able to get away with such deviations; the Grands liked their fools on the silly side of ridiculous.

“Come to mock me?” Shai snapped, turning back to her carving.

“I don’t mock the condemned,” the Fool said from beyond the cell bars. “Did you really ask them for paper, Shai?”

“I’ve been sentenced to death. They’re supposed to meet my requests during my last week of life. It’s traditional.”

“You’re a master Forger,” he replied. “Giving you paper would be like handing a sword to a captive soldier who asked for one politely.”

She snorted, counting up blocks on the wall, then carving out a few more notes. “I can’t do much with only paper.”

If she had soulstone, now . . .

“It’s the principle of the thing, I suspect,” the Fool said, still sounding amused. How wonderful that her life, and its impending end, could bring pleasure to the Imperial Fool.

“There are forty-four kinds of stone in the wall, you know,” he said.

She spun. “You know them?”

He’d taken to leaning back against the wall, arms folded, cleaning out one fingernail with another. “Top left, the one you’ve been trying so long to figure out, that’s grindstone from a quarry in Laio.”

“Tell me the others,” Shai said, dropping the fork and pressing up against the bars. “Fool, tell me what they are.”

“I could,” he said. “But would that really help? Assuming you knew all forty-four, assuming you knew their histories and the quarries they came from, what would you do? Create a seal for the wall in just two days? Carve yourself a soulstamp out of . . .what? Wood? Even if you had the proper stone, you’d use a fork to etch it?”

Shai looked down at the fork, dropped behind on the ground.

“The wall is a challenge, Shai,” the Fool said.

She closed her eyes. She’d known it, deep down. A wall of patchwork stones? It was a puzzle meant to occupy a Forger. Something to make them spend their time, and make them forget, for a little while, about the noose . . .

But what else was she to do? Give up? Try to Forge the bars instead? They’d been made with ralkalest, the unForgeable element. She’d get nowhere trying that.

“I am sorry about this,” the Fool said.

“You? You’re just the court fool. Why should I care if you . . .” She trailed off. “You!” she said, pointing. “You’re the one who turned me in!”

“Yes.”

“Nights! Why?”

“I couldn’t let you steal the scepter.”

“What? Suddenly you’re a loyal subject? Nights, Fool! You should have come to me. I’d have offered you gold to keep my secret.”

“I couldn’t let you steal it,” the Fool continued, “because I had to steal it myself.”

Shai froze.

“Your duplicate, I might add,” the Fool said, hands clasped behind his back, “was quite useful. Thank you.”

Shai was a Forger. She had spent her life studying the way people thought and the best ways to fool them. She knew to spot another fake when she saw one. Usually.

All this time . . . The pieces twisted, fitting into place with one another. He had duped her. He had duped them all, the Grands, the empire itself.

Shai’s anger melted away like cold spring runoff, and she found herself raising two curled fingers to her forehead: a salute. If he had pulled this off . . . Nights, she was in the presence of a master.

The Fool smiled. “A chance is coming your way, Shai,” he said.

“A chance?”

“A sign of respect, from one liar to another. It is not much—I must leave this place, and my time to arrange an opportunity for you was narrow. But you are clever; it might be enough.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Keep your wits sharpened,” the Fool said, turning to go. “Be careful, be keen. It has been an interesting dance, sparring with you.”

“Fool? I have money.” A lie. “I can offer—”

He turned toward her, meeting her eyes. In that moment, the Imperial Fool changed. His face grew somber, became steel, and his eyes . . .

In his eyes lay an eternity, an age.

She knew people. She had studied people. This man cared nothing for bribes. This man was not just a master. He was something far beyond that.

A shiver ran through her. “Nights, what are you?”

“Why must people always ask it that way?” A faint smile rose on his lips. “You will not see me again. Farewell.”

He slipped up the steps on near-silent feet. Shai watched him go, feeling thoroughly trounced. How long had it been since someone had gotten the better of her so soundly?

She sank down, looking at her bent fork, the notes on the bed, the wooden handle of the fork that she’d removed and begun carving—crudely—as a soulstamp. It was far too imprecise to be effective.

A chance. What did he mean?

The door to the dungeons opened above. She half thought it would be the Fool returning. How like him that would be, to claim that she would not see him again, then reappear seconds later laughing.

Heavy boots sounded on the steps leading out of the dungeon, and she squinted at the newcomers. Guards, guiding a man with long features and fingers. A Grand, the race who led the empire, but he was not high ranked. That robe of blue and green indicated a minor functionary who had passed the tests for government service, but not risen high in its ranks.

A chance . . . An opportunity . . .

Shai composed herself. She had been bested, but her Uncle Won had taught her that being bested was a rule of life. No matter how good you were, someone was better. Live according to that knowledge, and you would never grow so confident that you became sloppy.

And she had not been sloppy. She’d almost had the prize. She had run across someone better. That happened.

This time, she would win. Whatever the opportunity, she would seize it and thrive. For now, she played not for riches, but for her life.

The Grand stepped up to the bars. He paused for just a moment, then waved for the guards to unlock the door. “The arbiters wish to interrogate you, Forger.”

Editor’s note: When Brandon first wrote this novella and sent it around for alpha reads, it included the scene above. Brandon replaced it with the current prologue featuring Gaotona due to feedback from Mary Robinette Kowal.

#Stormlight Archive #Brandon Sanderson #sa #long post

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